The Diary Of A Fel
by CamelotKnight
Summary: The younger brother of Soontir Fel watches his brother grow from a farm boy to an Imperial pilot... And records his thoughts. Begins at the Harvest Festival. Featuring the Fel family, and lots of Rebels, especially defected Rebel pilots, as the diary goes on. Rated T only for what is implied in Chapter Two, otherwise K. Read and review!
1. Chapter 1

Technically this fanfic has no OCs. I just gave a name to a character who unbelievably had none, and made a fanfic out of him. This fic revolves around Fayen Fel, younger brother of Soontir Fel, the famous Imperial pilot. It follows his life as he watches his brother blossom into a hardcore Imperial (well, that's what he thought till Soontir defected, anyway). Read and enjoy and review!

 **Entry One**

 **10 ABY**

Today was the last day of the long awaited Harvest Festival, and also the day of the far longer awaited race. And, of course, my brother won. He was quite modest about it, though. Modest to a fault. It was actually quite funny to watch the expressions on the faces of my family–Mom was mostly scared to death, her arms were clasped tightly around me so each time Soontir made a tight turn or did anything dangerous, I was squeezed hard. Dad, for once forgetting about his dignity, was yelling like his life depended on it. Todr was mostly wide-eyed and gape-jawed. Violet was shrieking equally crazily, and Todr, standing next to her, experienced the maximum effect of her lungs going at full blast.

Violet had bought a pair of the red flags to wave madly over her head, but my family had politely refused to wave 'that silly thing' (Todr's words exactly). On account of my being the youngest, she obviously thought she could force me to wave the thing. I had it in my hands out of sheer politeness; if Soontir had happened to glance at us as he was flying past at the speed of a crazed mynock, he'd have seen me, holding the rolled-up flag in my left hand. I did wave it around a bit after the race was over–just a little bit.

Of all the people in my family, I was probably the one who was the least afraid and the most confident–confident that he'd win, I mean.

" _And the winner is, Soontir Fel!"_

Soontir popped out of his ship–he'd once tried explaining its specifics to me, but I was just too disinterested–with a happy smile on his face, to the accompaniment of cheers from the Fel family and Violet, who's close enough to be considered family. Dad was grinning from ear to ear, Mom was too relieved to say anything beyond, "Second year running too." Violet, ever the one for flattering Soontir, said, "The rest of them looked like Hutts going up a greased hill". I had two things to say to that. One, had she ever seen a Hutt going up a greased hill? And two, Soontir was good, great, in fact, but not all that great. Soontir had managed to win by just 2.3 seconds. Which wasn't all that big a deal.

Soontir, of course, took it with a grain of salt. If it's common knowledge that he does Dad's flying for him, it's even more common knowledge that Violet is extremely fond of Soontir. Less common is the knowledge that Soontir doesn't exactly reciprocate her feelings–I overheard him talking to Todr once. He tolerates her, likes her even, but nothing more. And I dread the day Violet hears that, because she will. Soontir is too sweet a man to lead her on.

Back to the subject. The Fel family was happy–Dad most of all. He positively dotes on Soontir. And who can blame him? "Family does for family" is the Fel motto, but no one follows it more than him. ever since the day he took up flying for Dad, Dad's always been proud of his dear son. Dinner was a nice affair–plenty of ryshcate all around, Todr's dream come true. I was too busy reveling in the happy faces of everybody present to take special interest in the ryshcate–good for Todr, bad for the ryshcate.

Everyone looked so cheerful, so content. That Soontir, being eighteen, could now work officially for AGR was added cause for joy. Smiles and wine all around–except for me. The wine, I mean. I begged Soontir with my eyes when he lifted his glass to his lips, but he didn't change his mind. Mom was on my right side, Soontir on my left, and Dad opposite to me. Soontir once reached out and mussed my hair–I was too stunned to squeal in protest. He hardly ever does that. Mom had a smile on her face that just wouldn't go away. I bet my face was the same. I'd give my right arm to have the whole family smiling like that every day, every year, all through our lives.

I sneaked into his room later that night. He was lying on the bed, stretched out, staring at the ceiling. He seemed startled at my appearance, but pushed himself up. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I wanted to congratulate you properly. In private." I stuck out my hand. "Cheers."

He grinned as he solemnly shook my hand. "Thank you," he said gravely. Then he gestured to me to sit next to him. As I slipped into his bed, I noticed him staring thoughtfully at the opposite wall. "What?" I asked.

He bit his lip. "I'm getting old."

For a moment, I just sat there gaping. Then I burst out laughing. A hint of a frown touched his eyebrows; I was too busy laughing away to notice. "You? Old? If you're old, Dad is ancient."

"Not what I meant. I'm eighteen already. Eighteen years of my life, gone past." He snapped his fingers for effect. "Like that."

"So?" I couldn't understand my brother's philosophical comments. "Eleven years of my life have gone past and I'm not complaining."

He shook his head, a slight smile on his face, and messed up my hair for the second time that day. "Never mind," he said kindly. "You won't understand. When you're eighteen, you will."

"Hopefully not." I saw my brother's solemn face and wondered if he were upset about something, though I couldn't possibly fathom what. So I asked him. Reticent, that was me.

His reply was "No, I'm fine and it's way past your bed-time. Go away."

I went away to the room I shared with Todr. We shared bunk beds–which was the only reason I'd agreed to share a room with 'ryshcate mommy', as I called Todr. Bunk beds were my delight. Of course, I insisted on the top bunk, more so when Dad was unsure of whether I'd be safe up there. Clearly all parents thought a eleven year old was one big ball. I'd been using the bunk for almost three years now, and with no misfortunes that my parents knew of. Actually, I had rolled off–four times–but only my two elder brothers knew about it. Todr was just too kind to tell on me, he knew how much I loved the top bunk, and Soontir I managed to convince with the 'family is for family' line.

I lay staring at the roof, much like my brother, thinking of the Harvest Festival and the dinner that had followed. Then of the conversation between my brother and me. I heard my brother's gentle breathing as he slept on the bunk below mine. I turned over on my side when I saw Soontir slip into the room, presumably on the way to the refresher. He looked up at me, realized I was awake, and offered me a smile, which I returned. He said, "Goodnight," very softly, and I said goodnight back. Then he left and I lay back on my bunk, a smile on my face.

The Fel family was happy. And when the Fel family was happy, I was happy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Entry Two**

10 ABY

A week ago, if someone had told me it was possible for a whole family's life to turn upside down in just a day, with just the course of a few events, I wouldn't have believed him. Now, though, I'd just nod my head and say mournfully, "You're right, you're right."

Because that's just what has gone and happened. And I don't know a thing about it. Not the details, anyway. Well, that isn't very right either. Not the details that actually _matter_ , is what I mean. All I know is that Soontir helped someone out and it got him in trouble and now he has to go to Carida. Carida! That's as far away from Corellia as anyone in this family has ever gone. Mom and Dad are running about, frantically packing and repacking and unpacking for his trip–or that's what they call it. A trip. Todr, obviously in an attempt to reassure me, called it a vacation. I could have punched him in the face. Eleven years old I may be, but I'm not dumb. I know when something's wrong. And something's dreadfully wrong.

And I don't know why it's happened.

My parents and brothers are being awfully quiet about the whole thing. All I know–and that's everything that I could extract from them–is that Soontir helped Pamr and–goodness knows why, I never thought my brother was crazy but now I'm beginning to have serious doubts about it–he fought some Ilir Post and his friends. He. Fought. Ilir. Out of all the people on Corellia Soontir could pick a fight with, he just had to go wave a fist at Ilir, didn't he? Everybody knows Ilir's father is one of the most important officials in AGR.

And they made an appointment for him in the Academy of Carida in order to stop him testifying in a trial against them. Exactly why he was going to testify in the first place, I don't know. Soontir's lips thinned visibly when I asked him that. He said, "They were doing something wrong and I stopped them."

Well, that did make some sense, anyway. Soontir hates it when people misuse their power or position, and even more so when they use it to annoy somebody else. He just has to step in to help, and there's no stopping him with logic or reason. Dad always thought his high moral values was a good thing, but what good was integrity if it only got you into trouble, the way it got Soontir into trouble?

On being asked what they were doing, he simply replied, "You're too young for that."

 _You're too young for that_. I can't count the number of times I've heard that in the past weeks. Dad and Mom won't tell me, Todr won't tell me, even Violet, who's usually the most talkative of the lot, won't tell me. I'm getting sick of this. I feel like eavesdropping. And if I weren't such a well-bred, refined young man, I would.

Out of all the replies to my questions, the best–and most jarring–was the one Dad said after patiently undergoing interrogation for about fifteen minutes. "It doesn't matter."

That hit me like a physical punch. And I stopped asking after that. because Dad was right. It didn't matter, none of it. All that mattered was that Soontir was going away, my big brother, my hero, my confidante was going away and I couldn't do anything to stop it.

The Academy of Carida. I'd heard about it, of course. One of the best Imperial Academies, almost solely for the use of manufacturing the best TIE pilots ever. My brother was going to be a TIE pilots. And deep down, I knew that was what scared me the most. That was what scared everybody the most. Because TIE fighters hardly ever survive.

I try not to think about it. The thought of losing my brother is too much to comprehend. So I keep it tucked away at the back of my mind, not thinking about it. which is hard to do when it's the main topic of conversation in this house. My family is too busy and tensed to notice my expressions when I hear them talk–"Well, you're going to get the best training ever." "Looks like you won't be working for AGR, eh, Soontir?" "You'll get to do what you do best, son." "Bet you won't get ryshcate on Carida." "I wonder what it's like on Carida?" "I wish I could go with you, Soontir." "Chance of a lifetime, Soontir." "Seize the opportunity, Soontir." Stuff like that. they make me bite my lip, struggle with the tears for a minute, and finally I rush up to my room and fling myself on the bunk–the bottom bunk, I interchanged with Todr some days ago. It takes far too long to get to the top bunk, especially when tears are streaming down your face and everything is a big blur.

I keep my feelings to myself. No one knows how I feel. I don't want to bother them–I know they're all as sad as I am. Though maybe I'm wrong, Mom and Dad feel pretty happy on the whole, except for the pain of separation. They seem to think that this is the best opportunity Soontir could ever have, and we shouldn't feel sad, but rather happy for him. Goodness knows if they're genuinely pleased, or if it's just a front to conceal their pain, but either way I'm not going to tell them or even show them how I feel.

I wonder how Soontir feels about the whole thing. I couldn't get to talk to him alone since the news came. He seems okay enough. Maybe he's hiding his true feelings too. Maybe he's secretly pleased he gets to train at the best academy. I suddenly realized he's very good at hiding feelings when he feels like it. But I do know that he wasn't really interested in leaving us, and that he's only doing it because he has to. I'd listened to enough of Dad's conversations with Mom to understand that. The word _blackmail_ came in quite a lot.

Unexpectedly, the one source of comfort is Violet, who feels just as bad as me. She and Soontir grew up together, they went to school together, and from what I hear, they did practically everything together for about twelve years. She was here when Soontir came back from his talk with Drop–her face grew pale as a sheet in less than a second. I almost thought she was going to swoon–and not with sheer joy, either. She's dreadfully upset.

And of course, she had to be the one who first noticed my expressions when they talked about Soontir's going. She cornered me on the way to my room and asked me straight out. Then we trotted together to the room and cried. Me and Violet. Crying together. I'd never have seen it coming. Todr nearly walked in on us; luckily Violet had locked the door. Todr didn't like that one little bit. He told me the room wasn't all my own, I had to share, blah blah blah. I told him it was only for a week, he was getting Soontir's room when he'd gone. He nodded and smiled. "Well, yes, there is that."

Speaking of Todr, he's probably the only one, other than Violet, who knows the way I feel. He caught me weeping into my bed once–I told him I didn't want Soontir going so far away. He nodded as if it were perfectly sensible to feel that way. Not a word of comfort. I felt like asking him, "What if he won't come back?" just to watch his reaction, but I didn't. If ryshcate mommy was simply insulating himself from the truth, that was fine with me.

These past few days passed by in a bit of a blur, actually. I never had a chance to sit down privately and really think. Or write an entry, either, until today. And the day after tomorrow, Soontir's leaving.

This time, Soontir was the one who sneaked into our room at night. He didn't exactly sneak, though. Eighteen-year-olds about to leave for academies are allowed much more freedom than eleven-year-olds. Todr and I were both up. Todr was placidly eating ryshcate, I was reading on my bunk, and trying to ignore the perpetual munching sounds that came from the bunk above mine. Sometimes I felt like yelling at him to stop eating, but each time I stopped myself. Maybe it was his way of soothing himself, now that Soontir was going? I was trying to do the same thing myself, but it didn't seem to work. If Todr believed eating ryshcate would make him feel better, I wished him luck.

And then Soontir popped into the room. I looked up, blinked, and scrambled up. Soontir flicked on the light and sat on my bed–Todr stayed where he was, still munching away. For a moment, there was an awkward silence, broken by Soontir saying quietly, "I'll miss you both."

That did it. I felt like the barrier I'd built to insulate myself from my emotions was beginning to crumble. For one wild moment, I felt like begging him to stay. But I knew it wouldn't be fair to him, so I kept silent.

Until I realized that that wouldn't be fair to him either–coming to talk, and getting only a studious silence in return? So I said, "Me too."

Todr reached down and smacked the top of my head. "Ow," I said. "I mean, us too."

Soontir grinned up at Todr. Was that a flicker of pain I could see in his eyes? "On the bright side, you'll both get a room to yourself."

 _What's that compared to you leaving?_ I thought. Todr said as much. "Not compensation enough."

He sighed. "I know. But we can't do anything about it, now can we?" I felt his eyes on me, and nodded, keeping my head down. "Listen, don't get on Father's nerves, okay? AGR will take care of you, but I don't want you bothering him. All right?"

"We're not beasts, Soontir," Todr said reproachfully.

He smiled again. "I know." He looked at me, as if expecting me to say something–in most of our brotherly meetings, that was the case. He wasn't to know that I couldn't trust my voice–or what came out of my mouth. What if I blurted out, "What if we never see you again?"

"We won't see you very often, will we?" Todr asked.

"Holidays, probably. I'll try my best. Not," he added glumly, "that I'm expecting many holidays."

He was looking at me again, so I asked him something that had been bugging my for the past week. "Do you want to go?"

He looked somewhat puzzled. "Fayen, I don't that matters much. I have to go, whether I–"

"Whether you like it or not, I know," I replied impatiently. "But do _you_ really _want_ to go?"

That floored him. He stared at me for a while before pulling his eyes away from me. It took him another two seconds to find something suitable to pin his eyes to, and a full five seconds before finally replying. "Well, I could say I hate going, on account of my having to leave you and my parents and everything I've ever known, but that would be a lie."

"And we all know Soontir Fel does not lie," I replied quietly. "So what's the truth?"

This time he met my gaze head-on. "I want to go. I hate the thought of leaving you behind, but I still want to go." He looked at me steadily. "I'm sorry, Fayen, but I really do like the thought of training at an Academy."

I felt like replying with a curt, "Nothing to be sorry for," but I didn't feel up to it. I know, it was selfish of me to wish he didn't like going, to wish that he desperately wanted to stay, but there it was. I wanted him to not want to go. So I simply nodded and said, "Well, I hope you do well."

"I'll do my best," he said seriously. "Like Father said, this is a chance of a lifetime, and I'm not going to waste it."

He looked so deadly serious, I felt like telling him there wasn't much chance of that happening. But I felt too empty, too tired to say anything. So we sat like that for another minute. Todr had gone back to his ryshcate. Finally Soontir got up, said goodbye and left.

I lay back down on my bunk, wide awake. I've promised myself one thing–the next time I see Ilir Post, I'm going to squash him into a pulp.


	3. Chapter 3

Entry 3

12 ABY

Well, Soontir's gone, and with it the will and desire to keep writing diary entries. Not that much happens, anyway–our lives have become curiously monotonous and dull, except for a very few events that occur at irregular times and to different people. In these two years, there have been barely a handful of such events.

One, of course, was that Todr got a job about six months after Soontir left, just a week after his sixteenth birthday. I imagine many rules and regulations in the AGR had to be subtly re-interpreted in order to give a sixteen-year-old a job in AGR while earlier only eighteen-year-olds were allowed. He's been given the job of accountant–like I said, monotonous and dull. He sits in the hangar bay, ryshcate in one hand and datapad in the other. But no one seems to reprimand him, they all carefully avoid the subject. Dad and Mom are just happy that Drop is keeping to his promise of caring for us–I'm far too angry at being treated with such favour to be grateful. Of course, Todr is delighted to be earning for the family.

Still, I have to admit, over the past year, Todr has become more responsible than he was before. For one thing, he eats less and works more. There's been a change in him–he's lost weight, grown taller and moodier. I suppose he feels the heavy burden of looking after the family has fallen squarely on his shoulders after Soontir left–which, I guess, in a way it has–and now he's trying to be responsible the way his older brother was. I never thought I'd feel this way, but I do feel sorry for him. Especially since he keeps it to himself–I don't think Mom and Dad know of the pressure on him. I wish he'd lay it on someone–he won't talk to me, of course, I'm only a very little boy–but someone! Mom or Dad, Violet, anybody!

If Soontir had been here, he'd be the first person we'd go to for help or advice. Both Todr and me. Now that he's not here, we have to keep our troubles to ourselves. Because we're far too kind to tell our parents.

The departure of Soontir has affected us all. Mom and Dad try to act as though they aren't upset at his leaving, but I know them well enough to understand when they're sad. Of course, they're not as sad as I am–they think Soontir has been given a wonderful opportunity to be more than just a simple, relatively unknown farmboy, when he could be so much more than that. They talk like that nearly every day, and it kills me each time I hear it. Initially I thought they said that sort of stuff just to make me feel better, but now I realize the façade is to make themselves feel better. And that makes me angrier than ever.

And each time I think about Soontir and how he'd been blackmailed into leaving us, into destroying the happy family that we once were, I always end up thinking of Post and the horrid shock he's going to get someday. Because I know all this–Soontir's leaving, Todr's sudden 'growth spurt', our parents' gloominess and their affected cheer–was brought about by him, and his pathetic parents. I know Soontir said he wanted to go, but if Post's parents hadn't given him that appointment, this whole awkward scenario would never have arisen in the first place. I'm going to get my revenge on Post–and not just by jumping on him in a deserted alleyway and pounding him to a pulp, either. Oh, no. Soontir said that Inspector Horn had promised to keep a close eye on him, and to clap him in chains the first time Post does anything foolish, so that's what I'm going to do. Keep an eye on him, always, all the time. Until I catch him red-handed and then he's going to be so sorry he ever made an enemy of Fayen Fel.

So here I am, spending my free time tailing Ilir Post. Not exactly the most fun way to pass my time, but certainly the most rewarding. I think Post is beginning to suspect it–not that I'm trying to catch him doing something wrong, but that I'm following him. Maybe it doesn't matter very much that he knows, but I'd rather not be caught in the act. Soontir got packed off to Carida for agreeing to testify against him; what would he do to me?

One good thing is that I'm not alone in my spy-work. Violet is a staunch ally and fellow spy. She's equally upset at his going and equally eager to take down 'dear little Post'–her words exactly. You should hear her say them. We've both thrown all the blame for Soontir's Carida appointment on his shoulders, and solemnly sworn to catch him in trouble. We take turns at spying on him, and report to each other. She goes to the same school that he does, so the chances of her catching him are fairer, but I sincerely hope that she won't. Soontir is my brother, and I should be the one trapping his greatest enemy. Not that Soontir thinks Ilir is his greatest enemy. In his last and only visit home–cadets are allowed to visit their parents only once a year–I distinctly heard him remarking drily to Mom and Dad that he should probably rout out Post and thank him for the appointment. If he'd said that to my face…I'd have punched him in the gut.

I wonder what Soontir would say if he found out what we were doing. Not much, I think. Maybe just his elder-brother look and a curt, "Don't get yourself in trouble." If he does say that, I know the perfect riposte. "You should listen to your own advice."

So far we haven't caught Post doing anything bad. Not very bad, anyway. I've never taken such a huge interest in the guy before–the managerial classes were all one and the same to me–but now that I am, I see a whole different side to them. Ilir loves to bully, coerce, threaten and tease everyone, and the more helpless the person is, the better. Usually his victims are little kids, both girls and boys. If I manage to get enough of them to testify against him, will he be sentenced to Kessel, I wonder? Probably not. Bullying is a very minor offense. He hasn't tried that on me, though. Good for him too. If he did, he'll get a taste of my fist. Thanks to Soontir and the fighting lessons he's received, I now know a bit about defending myself.

Ilir hates Soontir. That's for sure. Once, quite by accident, when I bumped into him–one of my tailing missions gone wrong–he glared at me as though I were a piece of rotten ryshcate and said, "Well, what do you know, a Fel. Heard your big brother went off to Carida, huh?"

There were a dozen replies to this stupid remark,, and I settled on the one that was the least insulting. "You ought to know, you sent him there."

Ilir's eyes flashed. Maybe the reply wasn't as not -insulting as I'd thought it was; maybe he just didn't like me very much. Maybe both. As if I cared. "You better watch your mouth, kid," he said. I barely managed to refrain from retorting, " _You_ better watch _your_ step." I hate it when someone calls me _kid_. As if that's the only thing about me. 'Fel' is so much more better.

He said, "And tell your brother to watch out. We wouldn't want him getting hurt, now would we?" And he gave a wide smile that made it quite clear there was nothing he liked better than to hear that Soontir was hurt. The little braggart.

I said, "Don't be an idiot, hardly anyone gets hurt at an academy."

He lifted a finger. "Ah, but in case you don't know, TIE pilots hardly ever survive their first year of flying." He smiled nastily, and only the thought of his getting a vacation on Kessel prevented me from letting loose my anger then and there. Then he walked off.

Slimy. That's the word for him. Slimy little Hutt. Slimy little bucket of Hutt-drool. I live for the day he stands in court and the inevitable words fall from the judge's lips–"Sentenced to a lifetime on Kessel." Violet would probably sit in the front and wave the Harvest Festival Race flag right under his nose. She has an odd sense of humour. Maybe I could catch him after and say, "Don't mess with the kid, Post. See you in a lifetime." The expression on his face would be priceless. Maybe I could grab a holo and send it off to Soontir, with my compliments. It would make his day and mine.

I haven't spoken of Soontir yet and that's because I was saving it for the very last. Because I'm still too sad to think about him.

Soontir, I think, is having a very good time. In the few calls that he gives, he smiles and talks and laughs and looks very content indeed. I hardly think he misses us at all. That's a relief, both for me and for my parents–and Todr too. The guy is far to close-mouthed about his feelings–Todr, I mean. He's even worse than Soontir. Soontir would at least reply faithfully if you asked him straight out, I did that thrice to Todr but he simply sidestepped each time.

Soontir talks about some of his studies with glee and some with grumblings–grumblings that were far less than I expected. The change in him is startling, to say the least. He looks so…so serious. Not that has wasn't ever serious at home, but this is just ridiculous. Except for occasional smiles, rare chuckles and even rarer laughs, he's always grave. Always. When he came home, his gait and bearing were noticeably different. He walked with a firm step, head high, very military-like. It was as if Soontir had been given a major makeover, and I don't think I like the result. At first I was too awed to even talk freely. I still was, even after he'd left.

Even Violet felt it. She came over for a couple hours. Soontir greeted her warmly enough–thank heavens for that!–but his attitude seemed just a little cool toward her afterwards. If that had been the case five years ago, or even two years ago, I wouldn't have complained, but since Soontir left, Violet and I have grown closer than I'd ever have dreamt of. Her blue eyes grew downcast after a bit, and after a while longer she simply got up and left. I followed her out and she turned around and said, "What's gotten into him?"

"Carida-fever," I said.

She snorted. "I'll say. He's gone all military. Did you see the way he walked? Stiff as a post?"

Post. I nearly laughed. "Not as stiff as a–yeah, you're right. Stiff as a post."

I know what I'm going to do the next time he comes, though–catch him in his bed and tickle him. That ought to work, if nothing else will. You can't possibly look serious and sombre when someone's tickling you all over, especially when that someone is a very determined little younger brother.

Can you?

 **Please Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

Entry 4

5 BBY

Soontir became a TIE pilot. Am I happy? No, I'm not. Pleased that my brother is content and famous, yes. But certainly not happy.

But before we come to that, let me give you a brief summary of what's happened to me in the past few years. Though, by 'me', I mean my brother, of course.

My brother certainly had a fun time the past few years. For one thing, he graduated the Academy of Carida with high honours–he was the salutatorian, in fact. My parents were slightly miffed that he wasn't _the_ best–that honour was bagged by a Han Solo, who was valedictorian. My brother doesn't think very much of him, but he did say that Han was a splendid pilot–although he also mentioned that he thought of himself as the better pilot of the two. Soontir made his feelings at being the second-best quite clear in his calls. He was simply irate. I must say I didn't share his feelings. Carida was, after all, one of the best Imperial Academies in the galaxy, even second-best was a great honour!

Anyway, Han Solo came to a bad end–soon after his graduation he was sacked from the Imperial Fleet for 'manhandling a superior officer'. Apparently said officer was whipping a slave Wookiee and Solo stopped him. Soontir felt rather sorry for Solo, apparently, in spite of his lingering animosity toward the guy. That's Soontir all right, chivalrous and decent to the very end.

Soontir went on to flying, and survived his tour of duty–two tours, in fact. Soontir requested his commanding officer for another tour, which was atypical because pilots usually couldn't wait to get out of their TIEs and move on to something bigger, something safer than a small, one-man fighter with no shields. But not our Soontir, our Soontir loved flying and that's what he was best at. Growing in the ranks mattered little to him.

Now he's serving as a Captain in the Fleet, on a Dreadnaught–its name has been spoken so many times and with such reverence that I don't think I can ever forget its name. The _Pride of the Senate._ They could have shown my parents some pity and named it _Pride of the Fels_ instead. But it doesn't matter to my parents, all they think about is Soontir Fel, serving with honour on an Imperial Dreadnaught, already a living legend and well on his way to high posts and ranks and titles and glory and what-not.

Funnily enough, in all that talk of how 'our dear boy' has done so well, no one seems to mention exactly what he's done. Oh, his flying skills are the talk of the neighbourhood, but his squadron's actions? They're hardly brought up at conversations. And they make me sick to the stomach. Downright slaughter, that's what they do. I can't call it anything else. The reporters who narrate the incidents over the Holonet water down the essence of what happened, using words like 'unfortunate accident', 'no other alternative', 'unexpected resistance' and so on and so forth. I don't care how they portray it, murder is still murder and although that's what pilots are supposed to do, shoot and kill the enemies who disrupt the peace and unity of the Empire, this is just ridiculous. And what's even worse is that my brother seems to approve of the whole kill-everyone-who-attempts-to-resist-and-also-the-people-who-don't modus operandi.

Of course, my feelings matter very little here. I did try bringing up the topic during one of Mom's long speeches flattering Soontir to the very heavens, but my parents squashed me nicely. Dad said, "You're far too young to understand. Those people are troublemakers, disrupters of the peace." That was a direct quote from a reporter, I think. How I hate the Holonet. "They kill and hurt innocent people." Wrong. Innocent people are hurt only when there's a firefight between Imperials and the rebels, and even then Rebels do all they can do protect civilian life while Imperials simply don't care. "Soontir and other officers simply destroy such people to ensure that no one gets hurt. They enforce the law and stop those who try to break it."

Yes, and that would be wonderful too, if only they didn't kill dozens of other innocents in the process. But that doesn't matter, does it? The number of casualties doesn't matter at all to the Empire. They're brushed off, like they're an unnecessary liability, a needless burden. The Holonet has a name for such people, completely innocent citizens, who happen to be at the wrong place at the wrong time or are simply killed to make an example to others–even woman and children. They're called 'collateral damage'. And the next time I hear that on the Holonet, with a video showing a scorched town, with bodies lying burnt and bruised on the streets, _and some still breathing_ , parents clutching children in their arms, husbands and wives holding hands, all shot down by the fire of fighters or Star Destroyers, I'm going to blast the screen to bits.

Speaking of which, there's another big thing that's come up in the past years–a big something that seems to have gotten the Imperials on edge, even though they'll be the last to admit it. Small protests and rebellions were common after the rise of the Empire, but this! This is a lot bigger than that. It's more well-planned, more dangerous, and much more effective than the other rebellions. And they're certainly a thorn in the Imperial foot. So much so that they've graced the rebellion with a capital R at the beginning–the Rebellion. And, hopefully, it'll be the downfall of the Empire as we know it. I know I'm pinning a lot of hopes on this Rebellion, considering that they haven't accomplished very much yet, but who knows? If there's one thing the future is, it's unpredictable.

I've done lots of serious thinking over the past few years, starting from the day I heard of my brother's first mission–Saloch, the videos on the Holonet were gruesome. And I have come to the irrevocable, undeniable, categorical conclusion that I am what the Imperials call a 'Rebel sympathizer'. That term comes up very often when Imperial battles are spoken of, and the casualties are almost always Rebel sympathizers or Rebels.

If this diary gets into the hands of the Imperials, I'll probably be thrown in prison along with the rest of my family. Which is why I've password-protected it and haven't revealed its existence to my family.

Now that I know what the Imperials do to Rebels (and even suspected Rebels, for that matter), I've shut my mouth. No voicing of opinions on the latest mission whatsoever. Listening to some others praise the Imperials' actions is getting to be a pain in the neck, but I'm bearing it all. I keep my thoughts to myself now.

Except once. Just once I let my bubbling anger get the better of me. In Soontir's last visit home, I poured out my heart to him–well, part of my heart, anyway. I should've kept mum, but I couldn't stop myself I suppose my brother was partly to blame for that. I was under the impression that my brother, with his high moral values etc, would've disapproved of the Empire's uprising-squashing methods. But he doesn't. Over dinner, he spoke lustily of his many assignments, the missions he and his comrades had to go on, and the medals he'd won. My brother seemed pretty pragmatic about the lives he'd taken. To be extremely fair, some of the missions he'd gone on were completely fair and justified, such as a bunch of pirates or smugglers, but people who were protesting against the dominion of the Empire? Uh-uh. Even Wookiees who revolted against slavery were mercilessly captured and/or killed. I did detect a slight tinge of regret at that–for all his Emperor-lovingness, Soontir still holds steadfastly to his disapproval of slavery –but slight tinges of regret are nothing.

Soontir seems to be of the opinion that Rebels were just that–troublemakers who didn't have anything better to do. Troublemakers who destroyed the unity that the Empire tries to carefully to maintain. I nearly snorted when he said that. What unity? What peace? I don't see peace anywhere. All you see on the Holonet are reports of this rebellion, that uprising, this bunch of people who're unhappy with the Empire, and over all of that, the wrinkled, old face of the Emperor smiling as best as he can at the camera, saying "We shall have peace." Sometimes, somewhere in the background there'll be another forbidding image–that of Lord Vader, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Army, enforcer of the Emperor, and lots of other things besides. I stop right here; I don't think it's wise to go on any further.

Back to Soontir. I caught him once when he was alone, staring out at the Corellian night sky, which, I admit, is a very pretty picture indeed. I sneaked up behind him; he didn't seem to notice my coming. "Bet you don't see sights like that anywhere else," I said.

He smiled, but didn't turn. I took my place beside him. "No," he agreed quietly. He gazed at the stars for a while longer, then lowered his gaze to the fields and gardens and houses that peppered the surroundings. "It's good to be home," he said at last. "I missed this place more than I thought."

There seemed to be no reply to this, so I just kept shut, though my mind wander back five years, to when Soontir had left, of Post and Pamr and–"Speaking of which," I said suddenly, "Post has gone. He's on Kessel."

Soontir looked startled at that, but then he gave a broad grin. "About time. What happened?"

I wondered whether to tell him of the spying that I and Violet had done, but I decided not to. Soontir's moral values seemed to have changed a lot; I had no way of knowing whether he'd approve or not. "Oh, somebody found out about his many crimes and misdeeds and reported it to Inspector Horn, who sent him off on a nice vacation."

"And who was this someone?"

Again I hesitated. Finally I said, "Violet." Which was more or less true, since we'd been in cahoots with each other.

Soontir's eyes grew a little bit bigger. "What happened?"

"Violet got a friend to install listening devices in his room." No, it wasn't Violet, it was me. And it wasn't a friend; again, it was me, though I did have help. One of Todr's friends was a mechanical expert who specialised in bugging rooms–and I strongly suspect his test subjects were the Fel family and Violet–and he very kindly offered to teach me how to install the things. "The information she got was damning."

"Why would Violet do that?"

"Pamr was her friend, remember."

"Right. I bet she's pleased."

Well, actually she wasn't, seeing as she had no part in the actual play, but I didn't say that to him. Instead I said, "Pity you can't home more often."

Soontir's face was back to neutral, as it had been for most of his visit. "I can't allow my personal preferences to get in the way of my duty." His tone of speaking made his words sound like a mild reprimand. I simply hated it when he talked like that. "Of course I'd like to come home more often, but the decision doesn't rest in my hands alone."

"Of course."

We stood in awkward silence for a while longer as I was finding it difficult to restart the conversation. Thankfully, Soontir solved the problem by talking. Or maybe not so thankfully. "Mom and Dad and I were talking." That always boded ill for me. "We think you should go to an Academy, just like I did."

Thank goodness I hadn't been drinking water right then –I'd have spluttered and coughed like never before. As it was, I just stood and gaped. "What?" I managed to get out of my suddenly non-functioning mouth.

Soontir nodded as if it were perfectly natural for me to be shocked. "Yes. Not right now, of course; one of the many rules of the Academy is that a cadet should be at least eighteen years of age, so you have a good two years to think over it."

"Oh, good." My mind was still whirling. Studying at the Academy like my brother. Just the one thing I didn't want.

Soontir was studying me closely. "My suggestion would be to go, you know that, don't you? With a recommendation from me you could get into any Academy easily. This is a golden opportunity for you."

"To follow in your footsteps?" I asked without thinking.

It probably came out sharper than I meant it too, Soontir's eyebrows narrowed fractionally. "Meaning?'"

My dam had broken down, my emotions were running haywire now. I waved my arms stupidly. "Soontir, haven't you ever felt even a bit of remorse for joining the Fleet?"

Soontir was staring at me as if I'd just announced I was a Hutt. "Remorse? What for?"

"For killing so many helpless people," I retorted savagely. "I've seen the reports of your missions and I couldn't believe my eyes."

He didn't seem overly offended–maybe because he'd heard such stuff before, which of course he had. As Captain in the Fleet, he certainly wasn't insulated to the varying opinions of the people in the Empire. "We do what we do to protect the people–"

"Protect? You destroy the people."

"We destroy the people who destroy the Empire. We can't afford to be gentle or kind with the sort of persons that we have to deal with. We ensure that the guilty are brought to justice and the helpless are safe."

I shook my head. "What about all the innocents that are destroyed in the process?"

"Inevitable," he replied casually. "During a battle there is always loss of life. We can't do anything about it. Collateral damage is a side effect of a war."

"Ah!" I said, more from annoyance at hearing the words 'collateral damage' than from anything else.

"Yes. Don't listen to the Holonet too much, brother, you tend to get all sorts of wrong ideas. The Empire has a good, stable government and is doing a good job of catering to the needs of the galaxy. I'm sure you'll understand the enormity of that, considering the many races and cultures that we have to take into account while providing security to the people."

"Of course," I replied; there wasn't anything else to say.

"And disregard everything the rebels say about the Empire; they're simple criminals and menaces." He turned; clearly, he didn't think my sudden outburst warranted much attention or consternation. I'd had sudden rebellious thoughts and he'd quelled them, and that was that. "Don't forget to think about the academy."

And with that, the conversation was over. I stood there in the corridor, a cool breeze washing over me, but I was entirely oblivious to it.

I feel saddened by what has happened, and vaguely disillusioned. Saddened because now I know for sure Soontir is just as bad as the rest of them. Disillusioned because my image of my brother –which I had from the moment I called him brother, so long ago, in my babyish, barely intelligible voice–was so different. To me, Soontir was the confident young man, the daring pilot, the loving brother, the _virtuous and just_ Imperial. That image of Soontir Fel has been given a good shaking. I suppose it was silly of me to think that Soontir hadn't changed, that he was still the sweet man that he always was.

Speaking of sweet brothers, Todr is one. In all my wildest dreams, I'd never have imagined he could be responsible, but he is! He's just as good as Soontir. He's not flying, though; he has a good, respectable desk job that doesn't get him closer than a mile to a fighter. I suppose that's why Soontir isn't thinking of packing him off to the academy; he'd get kicked out in less than a week. And, quite unexpectedly, Todr is my one big comfort. While Soontir has gone all imperial and military and aloof, Todr is more jolly and _open_ , although no one in his right mind would call him friendly. I think reticence is one thing the Fel family suffers from. Dad has it, Todr has smidgens of it, and Soontir has it in excess. Mom isn't a Fel by birth, but she certainly possesses a generous amount. I hope I turn out to be different from them. If I had to keep all my thoughts to myself, I'd burst.

And who better to learn openness from than Violet? She's open to the point of gregarious, frank to the point of blunt, talkative to the point of verbose. No one can be more opposite to a Fel, and especially Soontir Fel, than she is. I suspect she's beginning to understand that too; her friendship with him is slowly falling apart. Oh, they talk and smile at each other all right, but the old fondness has all but disappeared. Actually it had disappeared a while before Soontir went to Carida, but Violet caught on to it only later.

Soontir's going to Carida and joining the Fleet has affected us in more ways than we can count. And when I look at old holos, of Soontir, Todr, Violet and me, I can't help but wonder at how much we've changed over the years. The old Fayen would never have been shy around Soontir. The old Violet would never have snapped at Soontir. The old Soontir would never have condoned the actions of the Empire.

Or would he? That's the question that bothers me most.

And none of that matters now, because now the entire Fel family is hoping that I'll follow in my brother's footsteps and join an Academy. Mom and Dad are so ecsatic at the thought of a second Fel becoming famous that I haven't the heart to tell them that I do not want to go. And yet, I can't just brush aside my feelings and shoot off to the academy either. Once I apply, there's no turning back. After three years of study comes graduation and then TIE service and then a place in the Fleet and on and on till I get killed or retire. In effect, I have to become like my brother, shooting down innocent people, and giving the order to other pilots to do so. I'll never rest easy if I do that.

But what reason do I give for not wanting to go?

Never in my life have I felt so utterly confused before.

 _Edit on 4.5 BBY_

You know, I've been re-reading this entry and I think it's far too anti-Imperial to exist as a diary entry in my datapad. What if Soontir takes a peek at it? I really don't think Soontir would tell on his own family, but I'd rather not take the chances.

Anyway, I don't want to place Soontir in such an awkward position anyway…

[Prompt: Delete?]

[Command: Yes]

[Prompt: Please confirm; all data will be lost]

[Command: Confirm]

 **Review review review! Especially all those Fel-family-loving readers out there!**


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